


Catching Sparks

by cydonic



Series: Paradise [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 09:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cydonic/pseuds/cydonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Healing takes time and Rachel is patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one

**_it's like walking with the wounded_**

**_carrying that weight way too far_**

**_concrete pulled you down so hard_**

**_out there with the wounded - missing you_**

**_well i never claimed to understand what happens after dark_**

**_but my fingers catch sparks at the thought of touching you_**

Quinn smiled.

It was brief, a fleeting dance across her features. And then it was gone. If well-wishes could make everthing better, Rachel would have already created the perfect world. She had such shining optimism - she was a dreamer. And Quinn wasn't. Quinn was a realist. She knew that bad things happened, and they happened to everyone. They happened to her with such frequency that she wanted to believe in Rachel but past experience taught her otherwise.

"Everything's going to be fine, Quinn." Rachel assured her, reaching forward to take Quinn's hand loosely in her own. Quinn tried to hide her slight jump at the contact, but Rachel just smiled blissfully on as if nothing in the world mattered outside of them right at that moment. Quinn desperately wanted everything to be fine. "No one even knows, really. Only a few people in Glee club." She offered, trying to be supportive.

"I know." Quinn said, but she didn't know. She just put her faith in Rachel's chatter as they walked back to her house, hand in hand.

–––

The first day back at school was not as fine as Rachel promised her it would be. Coach Sylvester had given her time off the Cheerio's - time off that she couldn't refuse, try as she might.  _"I don't need you falling apart on top of that pyramid, Q. Give it a few weeks."_  And though it was brusque, as they passed one another in the hall, it was the closest Quinn knew she'd get to sympathy from the woman. She might not know the full story, but the older woman wrangled up a tender smile Quinn had never seen on her face before.

"Should we hold hands?" Rachel leaned over to whisper in her ear, and then caught herself abruptly. "Are we dating?" She asked, turning a chunk of hair around her finger as she pondered the situation.

As if their weekend of cuddling on the couch meant nothing. Rachel had tucked Quinn protectively against her chest despite the height difference. Instead of musicals, Rachel had picked out an assortment of movies from her cabinet.  _"I didn't know what sort of films you liked, so I got one from every genre."_ She had stated, proud of herself, kneeling on the floor beneath Quinn like she was a queen. And slowly Quinn let her eyes rove over the titles, before pointing to some B-grade comedy.

She wasn't up to watching a romance at that time. They'd cuddled up through the film, forcing laughter when the movie clearly asked for it. Rachel's mouth hovered by her ear, making comments about the poor acting in the film - she obviously didn't understand it was made intentionally bad. Quinn laughed along all the same, quiet and airy and if it was lacking Rachel said nothing.

But Quinn didn't know if they were dating. She wanted to say yes. Rachel was so sweet, she went above and beyond what any of the other boys had. Sometimes her filter cut out and she would say things that were a little... out of order, but that was just  _Rachel_. She was this unique creature Quinn simply couldn't understand. And she was intrigued as to why someone like her would stick around - would  _want_  - someone like Quinn after all that had passed between them.

There was her reputation to think of, too. People already gave her sly, sideways looks in the hall. Maybe that was part Rachel, dressed up in vintage glamour and neatly glued to her side, and maybe that was part gossip. Someone must have figured it out now - a good number of jocks had intervened in the... the fight. They'd figure it out soon, if they hadn't already.

Quinn tried not to shrink beneath their knowing gazes. She didn't want their pity. She stuck her chest out in a pale, printed dress, raised her head high, and tried to ignore them all. Quinn had not gotten where she was today by feeling sorry for herself. She had risen from the ashes of a fat, ugly girl into the creature she was now, and Quinn would evolve again. When it came down to it, she either made herself stronger or she fell. The only way to go was up.

"Quinn." Rachel whispered after a while, gently resting one hand on her elbow and guiding her into the bathroom. "You look like you're going to cry."

–––

Glee felt like the only normal part of the day. Rachel had been sitting next to Quinn for a while now, and so no one cared that they continued on the same pattern. Mr Shuester was as awkward as ever, always looking at Quinn. She didn't like it. They acted like she was fragile - something that was going to shatter and break if they said the wrong thing. She wasn't. Quinn Fabray was strong.

She was unbreakable, physically. Her body healed. There were scars, but they were lightening. One day, Rachel had assured her from her laptop, the scars would disappear completely - provided they received proper care. Every morning she would routinely rub oil into the scar that echoed pain as she ran her fingers over it. Quinn could not yet bring herself to touch the mark on her shoulder.

And mentally she was easy to destroy. Quinn knew she would crumble and fall, like a castle built on sand. She just couldn't  _afford_  to break. Rachel already worried about her enough, and cared about her more than her own mother did. Quinn couldn't add one more thing to her list of worries. It was just too much for Rachel to have to put up with.

Bad enough already that she wanted damaged goods.

"This weeks assignment is triumph." Mr Schue wrote on the board in large letters, underlining the word several times as he was prone to. "I want to hear songs about succeeding, about overcoming great odds to come out on top. Inspirational stuff." Quinn couldn't decipher his meaningful look. She had a feeling this was all for her - but what had she truly overcome?

Nothing.

She'd just run away like she did from all her problems, left it to Rachel and Miss Pillsbury to sort out because she just wasn't able to herself.

"I know  _just_  the song." Mercedes said from somewhere behind Quinn. The girl got up and began to sing passionately, the band struggling to keep up with the impromptu concert. Rachel placed her hand on Quinn's thigh, smiling and singing back-up vocals.

–––

Quinn spent more and more of her time at Rachel's house. Puck offered to drive both of them home after Glee, and Rachel happily accepted. Quinn rode in the front seat, trying to keep up with Puck's conversation about football season. "Sucks not having you on the Cheerio's, Quinn." He commented, turning slowly into Rachel's drive. "Looks kinda depressing without the Queen Bee out there."

She mustered up a quiet smile. "I'll be back in the next few weeks. Coach Sylvester can't keep me out forever." Quinn was looking forward to returning to the Cheerio's. She needed it. It was a distraction - she could focus her mind on the routine, and not on other things. No matter what she was doing, somehow her thoughts always drifted back to one topic.  _Matthew._

"Thank you for the lift." Rachel said, hopping out of the back seat and leaving Quinn and Puck sitting together in the front.

Quinn picked her bag up off the floor. "Thanks." She said, but Puck held out a hand to stop her.

"Just wait up a sec, Quinn." He said. Rachel looked back at them both, before nodding and heading in the house.

"What is it?" Quinn asked, turning in her seat. Her relationship with Puck had been a strange one. For a while there had been moments she'd expect the two of them to get back together - if only for Beth's sake. After he had intervened in the fight with Matthew, she had come to resent him. But Puck had been trying to make up for it. He was watching out for her, offering to take her books and walk her to class - that is, whenever Rachel wasn't doing the same. Quinn wasn't sure whether she was frustrated that they treated her that way or flattered.

Puck scratched the side of his head. "I just want you to know that I'll be around whenever you need me, okay?" There was a kind of love in his eyes, but not what it had once been. It was fierce and protective - brotherly, almost. "I can help you out with anything. Including anyone who gives you trouble, right?" At his heart, Puck was a good guy. Quinn wanted the best for him, even if that didn't include her. If you looked past the infidelity issues, he did have some amount of honour. He was a gentleman most of the time.

"Thank you." Quinn said, wanting to do something: squeeze his hand or kiss his cheek, just to show that she appreciated it.

But she couldn't. Not when sitting there made her think of another front seat with another driver, and the smoke could cloud her vision just enough to be uncertain as to whether it was Puck or Matthew there.

She just smiled and let herself out of his car.

–––

Movies had been Rachel's token way to distract Quinn. They didn't require much thought, and there were no words necessary. Sometimes Quinn liked the silence, but tonight she wanted to do something else. Something for Rachel.

Working through her mixed feelings was a hard, slow process. Rachel had assured her after the park that she wasn't going to force Quinn to do anything.  _"I meant what I said. I'll tell you you're beautiful every day of my life if I have to."_  There was no obligation there for Quinn to love her, to say anything of the sort back. It was love, complete and honest and open and free.

Finding the words for what she felt was hard. She wanted to love Rachel. She wanted something like that to call her own, but after being burned so many times she was understandably cautious. Even though Quinn knew Rachel would never hurt her, she would sometimes jump at movement in the corner of her eye. No matter which one of them apologised - usually both - Quinn would always hurt at the pained look in Rachel's eyes.

She hurt when Rachel hurt. She was happy when Rachel was happy. That was what they had - it might not be dating, it might not be love, but it was something. "Sit down." Quinn commanded.

Rachel glanced up from where she was rummaging through her bag. "What? Why? I have to get my homework out." Despite her protests, Rachel sat down in the chair in front of her vanity.

Quinn remember sitting on that chair herself, having tiny shards of glass dug from her back. It wasn't the most pleasant memory. "I don't know." Quinn said, and it was more truthful than anything else she could've said. "I want to do something for you."

Rachel immediately flushed. "Like what?" Her voice was small and unsure.

"Just sit still." Quinn said with a smile, and began to run her hand through the twin ponytails Rachel had pulled her hair up into that morning. Quinn wove her fingers through the strands before gently coaxing the hair ties out. Slowly her hands ran up along the hair to Rachel's scalp, gently massaging her. "My mother would give my father a massage most nights." Quinn offered. It was the only real intimacy her parents had shown one another. They kissed, but it was rare. The massage was just something Quinn had instinctively seen as loving. More-so than hugs or kisses or where they both led.

Rachel sat stiff for a moment, before relaxing into Quinn's hands. "Oh." She said.

–––

Rachel spent most afternoons of Quinn's Cheerio practice sitting on the bleachers watching her.

Panting and sweating, Quinn went to grab her gym bag with the other girls. Brittany and Santana flanked her - a constant presence as they'd always been. "What's that?" Brittany asked as Quinn drew out her water bottle, dislodging a tiny object from her bag and sending it fluttering to the ground.

Quinn bent over to pick it up. It was a tiny origami star, no bigger than her thumbnail. Santana and Brittany leaned over her, curious, as Quinn began to unfold the intricate creation. And there, written in Rachel's looping script (tiny star dotting the i and all) was:

_You top the pyramid of my heart._

Santana snorted. "That is the  _lamest_  thing I've ever heard." She said. "Sounds like Little Miss Berry has a crush on you. With all that time you're spending with her, I'm not surprised."

Quinn tried to mask her smile with her water bottle, but it didn't work.

–––

They didn't kiss after that time in the park. Rachel respected Quinn's boundaries, and her strange way of showing affection. It had become a routine for them. Quinn didn't often touch Rachel, other than to massage her. It was all innocent - shoulders, back, scalp.

With Rachel, she was taking it slow - whatever it was. Her Dad's had had no problems with Quinn basically moving in, and they told her that she was free to stay as long as she needed. Quinn wasn't sure what Rachel had said to them - whether they were dating or just friends who happened to touch each other a lot and one party happened to send constant nice messages to the other...

What they were, in her mind, was Quinn and Rachel.

That was what they were to everyone at school, and Quinn had sought to keep it that way. They were only two months out from graduation, and if she could get out of McKinley without suddenly being outed or something, it would be for the best. Not that she was gay, really. Quinn didn't know what she was. Perhaps desperate for real love constituted a sexuality. If it did, that was her to a tee.

–––

Tuesday's were a miserable day. Quinn and Rachel had first period together, and everything after that was separate until Glee. They'd been walking to English when Quinn overheard two guys talking by the lockers.

"They all said he beat her up." One of the boys said, casting a very obvious look across Quinn's frame. She paused, lips drawing into a thin line. Rachel turned to watch them.

"Good thing, too." The other one said, lounging up against the locker as if he invited a challenge. He knew that they could hear him, and maybe that was what made him talk. "I was sick of that bitch strutting around like she owned the joint."

It couldn't have been anyone else. Quinn Fabray owned -  _had_  owned the school. She felt her blood run cold. "We should go." The old Quinn - the bitch, as the junior so openly called her - would have had his life made a living Hell for that one. This Quinn didn't want to be involved. This Quinn was more content to blend into the background beside Rachel, and most other students were happy to let her do so.

Quinn knew someone looking for a fight when she saw them. She also knew Rachel in fight mode when she saw it.

This event contained both of those things.

"Don't you ever speak about her like that again." Rachel demanded, storming right up to the pair and striking the rude one across the face. It echoed loud in the hall and everyone turned to look at her. Quinn shrunk back against the lockers. "No one  _ever_  deserves to go through this, and they certainly don't deserve to have someone telling them that."

Rachel looked furious - on the verge of angry tears. Quinn stood by, opened-mouth. Teachers, upon hearing the commotion, were starting to investigate. "Condoning abuse makes you just as bad." Rachel said, fists clenched by her side.

"Break it up!" A teacher called from behind the forming ring of students, as Rachel stepped back beside Quinn.

"See how many girls want to date you now that they know you like people hitting them." Rachel stated, looking near smug, as the girls in the ring surrounding them watched on in awe.

She took Quinn's arm in her own and walked her to class.

–––

Later that day Quinn sat in Glee, the seat beside her unusually devoid.

"Has anyone seen Rachel?" Mr Schue asked the class, but everyone was quiet, glancing anxiously down at Quinn.

As if on cue, the brunette burst in through the door. "The nerve of him!" She shouted, slushie dripping from her face.

Quinn stood up, moving to her side on autopilot. "Rachel, what happened? Did they -"

She wasn't given a chance to respond. Rachel stood in front of her, quietly sized her up, and then hooked one arm around her neck and pulled Quinn into a kiss. The blonde stumbled forward at the sudden assault, mouth still open on her question.

Quinn couldn't hear what the others in Glee said. She was sure someone had taken a photo or a video and here was laughter and possibly applause, but all she could sense was Rachel. She tasted cold and slightly grape-y, but beneath that there was something warm and distinctly  _her_  and Quinn just couldn't put any words to it.

When they broke, Rachel was panting. And then she realised what she'd done. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. "Oh, Quinn, I'm sorry I just -"

It was Quinn's turn to cut her off.

–––

"The Queerio's is becoming quite a popular term in the school, following video evidence of you and Miss Berry engaging in the act of making out in Glee." Jacob Ben-Israel probed, hounding Quinn as she walked out to Cheerio's practice. "Not to mention Brittany and Santana were caught fooling around on campus... on many different occasions." He added, sniffling for measure as he practically pressed the recorder into Quinn's mouth.

Quinn sighed. "What's your point?" She asked, Coach Sylvester already getting the cheerleaders to start warming up in front of her. They were just far away enough that the woman couldn't hear them clearly - if she could she might have killed Jacob for the Queerio remark.

"My point is that you and Rachel are dating, are you not?"

Dating. Her and Rachel dating. It was something that had come up in Quinn's mind before - many, many times. She'd thought about it as they shared a bed, holding hands because Quinn couldn't bear to sleep alone, not after having laid in Matthew's bed bloodied and raw and alone and cold before. She'd thought about it as she drew her hands down Rachel's back, working out the knots in her left shoulder. That was where they formed when she was worrying about her NYADA acceptance - something that was happening more and more lately. Quinn wondered about it when she noticed the fact that she could tell what Rachel was worried about due to what muscles needed the most attention at night.

She'd thought about it when she'd stepped into Church for the first time since meeting Matthew. Rachel looked so out of place at her side but she went through with it. She'd wondered as she sat there whether God would be okay with her and Rachel holding hands in the pew. And then she realised she didn't care what God though, she hadn't when she'd gotten pregnant and she certainly didn't now that God had taken her mother on a pilgrimage overseas to help her fill that void the loss of her husband had left, careless about her abused and possibly now lesbian teenage daughter.

Quinn had thought about it when Santana and Brittany had come up to her after that Glee club meeting, smiling. Brittany took Santana's hand in her own, and the Latina said nothing.  _"Maybe we can double date sometime. San loves Breadstix."_ Brittany had chimed, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. Santana had given her this knowing look, but there was something soft there. A thanks. Brittany had dragged her out into the hall chattering happily about their plans for the evening.

She'd thought about it every time she plucked out a tiny origami star from her bag, beside the bed, on her cutlery at breakfast, on her seat at Glee. Each one held a different message. Sometimes they were cute and sweet, sometimes they were terrible puns that were just oh-so endearing Quinn couldn't stop smiling for a half hour. Every time she kissed Rachel she thought about it because Rachel looked expectantly at her like she wanted her to say something and Quinn just couldn't find the word and her mouth had better places to be.

She thought about it now, as Rachel held her customary spot in the bleachers. Instead of working on her homework or a Glee club performance like she typically did, she held up a sign. It was yellow and cut out in the shape of a star. From where she stood, Quinn could make out the words  _"WIll you go out with me?"_  The Cheerio's noticed, pointing up and talking loudly about it. Some looked happy - others laughed behind their hands. All eyes, though, were on Quinn, even as Coach Sylvester began yelling for them to do laps.

"Yes." Quinn whispered, breathless, watery eyes trained on the figure in the stands.

"Was that a yes to my question or Rachel's proposition?" Jacob asked, and then corrected himself, now talking into the recorder. "Never mind."

"Yes!" Quinn called out, louder this time. Rachel obviously heard, as she set down the sign and ran out of the stands.

And so it came to be that Quinn and Rachel were dating.

–––

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Rachel asked as they lay in bed, Quinn staring at the ceiling and Rachel toying with her hair.

"Not really." Quinn sad honestly. When she'd first seen Rachel she was everything she didn't like - dorky and more interested in school than popularity. After Rachel had kissed her, she still hadn't loved her. That had developed. Love wasn't an instant thing. It took time, and it took work, and in the end it was worth it.

Rachel hummed thoughtfully. "I think I do."

 


	2. part two

**_now it's fall and your shoulders get tighter_ **

**_nervous flicks on the lighter, boots_ **

**_your pissed off poets, your women's groups_ **

**_and the friends with you, we should have know this fool_ **

**_well i guess we missed the mark_ **

**_still my fingers catch the sparks at the thought of_ **

**_them touching you_ **

The latter half of senior year was like a blur. In between the college applications and arrangements for homecoming, for prom, for graduation, there was hardly time to breathe. This was it. This was their final year at McKinley. Quinn had mixed emotions. It had been a tumultuous journey - she had gone from popular to unpopular and back again, time and again. She'd gone from head cheerleader to teenage mother to high school sweetheart and now, now she was finally what she'd always wanted to be: Quinn Fabray.

No more, no less. She was Quinn Fabray. Teenage mother, cheerleader, bisexual, in absolute, complete, all-encompassing, universe-ending love. She was put together, haphazardly, held together at the edges by the arms of Rachel Berry, and she couldn't be happier.

–––

"I prefer to say how I feel in song." Rachel said, hands clasped gently in front of her. Quinn was watching her from the seating in the auditorium. The rest of Glee club had gathered there, requiring the greater space to rehearse whole cast numbers. "Do you mind, Mr Schue?" She asked, head tilted to the side patiently.

Somehow Rachel and Quinn had evened one another out. They were better people for it - Quinn knew that. Rachel was kinder with her words and was just as content to snuggle up beside Quinn in practice and let the other club members have a chance in the spotlight. Quinn smiled more. She did so now, watching the brunette  _own_  the stage in the auditorium.

"Ah - this was for Regionals practice, Rachel." The teacher said, mouth quirking in an odd expression. Mr Shuester was renowned for having an inability to say no - he'd let the students sing what they wanted (within certain boundaries, of course), and their practice typically involved just doing whatever came to mind anyway. Glee was laid-back, but only because they'd proven they could get up on stage - set list stolen at the last minute - and prove their worth.

Rachel rolled forward onto the balls of her feet. "I was thinking this could be our solo for Regionals." On either sides of Quinn, Mercedes and Santana both stiffened imperceptibly. "That is, of course, if you all decide you want it to be." Rachel amended, and Mr Schue at last waved his hand to get her to start her song.

Quinn wasn't familiar with the song, but as the chorus approached Rachel leaned down off the stage, holding out a hand to her. " _Here's to us, here's to love._ " Quinn took it gently, allowing herself to be pulled up beside Rachel. The blonde laughed as she was serenaded, Brittany appearing somewhere for behind to twirl Quinn and dance around her. " _All the times that we messed up. Here's to you-_ " Rachel held out her hand as if holding an invisible glass, and Quinn's smile broke once more into laughter. " _-fill the glass, cause the last few days have gone too fast._ " And it wasn't just the last few days, but the last few  _months_.

In her mind there was everything. Massaging and kissing, little stars with fond messages, late nights studying side-by-side, Rachel singing in the shower at the top of her lungs, double dates at Breadstix. Wary glances in the halls, muffled calls of "lesbo" and "slut" in the hall, a slushie shared between their faces - Puck getting suspended for punching out some uppity sophomores who messed with  _his_ baby mumma. All of it. Every little bit.

They said when you died, your life flashed before your eyes. If Quinn was dying now, her mind was being kind and simply showing her the best moments.

Rachel snatched up Quinn's hand, pulling her into a dance that was more enthusiasm than talent. " _So let's give 'em Hell, wish everybody well._ " Brittany and Santana danced around them, the Latina laughing wildly as she was lead across the stage. Mike and Tina sang to one another as they climbed the steps onto the stage. " _Here's to us - here's to us._ " Rachel sang, her eyes scrunched up as she hit the high notes of the song. Quinn settled her hands around Rachel's waist and kissed her deep. Rachel missed the rest of the song, but she didn't seem that bothered by it, really.

–––

They took Regionals but not Nationals.

Quinn missed several cues because she was too busy staring at Rachel. It was hard when those eyes bore into her soul, when she started singing about love, and no one in the crowd could mistake the purity, the absolute  _devotion_. It was clear, then and there, that Rachel was not simply singing  _about_  love - she  _knew_  love, and she was sharing that joy with Quinn.

–––

"Looks like you learned your place, huh, Fabray?" One jock who had never really liked Quinn is waiting for her after Cheerio's practice outside her locker. Rachel ordinarily waits behind for her, but tonight she has several assignments that need urgent work, and so she went home once the day was out. Quinn only recognises the boy who had once tried to usurp her position in order to make his girlfriend more popular. She'd personally seen to it that he was the water boy for the rest of the football season. Now he had, apparently, grown some balls and decided to confront her.

Quinn remains tight-lipped as she shoulders her way past the boy to enter her locker code. He nudges her, and she stumbles forward a little. Her breath catches, all of a sudden that nudge is a shove and she feels everything just  _stop_.

But then there's a loud  _bang_  that makes her flinch and Puck has the kid up by his lapels against the lockers. Puck who has only  _just_  gotten off a suspension for a similar incident. "Touch her again, and I'll make sure every bone in your body is broken." His voice is dangerously low, and Quinn's torn between being terrified and thankful. There is some horror in her relief. "Got that?" Puck asks, slamming him back against the lockers as the junior nods his head rapidly. "Good." He drops into a boneless pile on the floor. Quinn hides partially behind her opened locker door as the teenager gathers himself and all but runs away.

Puck looks at her quietly before smiling. Then he's gone, too, and Quinn is alone.

–––

Rachel bought Quinn a tiara and presented it to her as the blonde came downstairs before prom. Rachel's dads cheered and whooped and Quinn blushed and looked away. "You look beautiful." Rachel said as she placed the crown on Quinn's head. It fit between her loose golden curls as if it were a part of her. "No more or less than normal. I think it's impossible to improve on how gorgeous you are, but this was a good try." For Rachel Berry, that was an extraordinary complement. Others might be confused, but Quinn grinned, flattered. It wasn't that Rachel pointed out when she looked good, but it was that she maintained Quinn looking good was  _all the time_. In the morning with bed hair and awful breath she was stunning, in the bathroom with homophobic slushie dripping down her cheek she was divine, eating lunch she was enchanting and walking to class she was dazzling.

According to Rachel, Quinn existed in an endless plane of beauty.

Slowly, steadily, Quinn was starting to believe her.

"You're amazing." Quinn managed after a long moment. Her throat was closing up and tears blurred her vision, but nothing could hide the magnificent creature before her. Rachel glowed with happiness, and actually looked down when Quinn complimented her. "You are. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I love you." Quinn said, and that was the first time she said it. It came free and easy and natural.

It was perfect.

She was in love.

She didn't care about Prom Queen, she didn't care about attending some sleazy after-party that all the 'cool' kids would be at. Once upon a time her wish would have been just that, being the top of the school when it came down to it. Now Quinn was happy to be in Rachel's arms all night. She serenaded Rachel, and almost everyone cheered. The people who didn't? Quinn didn't care. They could sit in the back and mock her, but she had something they didn't - happiness.

–––

"Guess what." Rachel said, bouncing on her bed.

"What?" Quinn asked, not even glancing up from her English homework.

Rachel heaved a sigh. "I said  _guess_." She repeated.

Quinn sighed herself, finishing off the sentence she had been writing before turning around. "I don't know, Rachel. I'm terrible at these games." Rachel met her gaze, unwaveringly. "A clue?"

For a moment, Rachel looked offended Quinn would even suggest such a thing, but then caved in. "I just got the mail." She said, and the smile on her face was so brilliant Quinn was sure her guess was right.

"NYADA?" She asked. Rachel nodded, and Quinn beamed. "You got in?"

Rachel nodded her head rapidly. "There was more mail." She said, and her smile just kept growing. Quinn was sure that was physically impossible, but Rachel was an impossible sort of girl.

"... where from?" Quinn asked, now stumped, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Yale." Rachel said, holding out a sealed envelope to Quinn.

The blonde felt her stomach drop as she pulled away the adhesive. Inside was a thick wad of paper, folded over neatly. Rachel was on the edge of the bed in anticipation as Quinn scanned the documents for one thing.

And then.

"I got in." Quinn said, shocked. "I got in to Yale."

They both laughed and embraced one another, ignoring - for now - the fact that they'd have to live apart for college. For now there was shared joy and cuddles on the bed.

–––

The Cheerio's were, again, the star team on McKinley's mantle. Rachel travelled so that she could watch Quinn perform, emanating a confidence in her moves that was not solely from being in charge, or from being popular, but from being loved. Her moves were sharp - the whole of the Cheerio's had practiced so that they moved as one, singular being.

Rachel had sat in the audience, flanked on either side by her father's, cheering the loudest out of everyone.

Quinn was surprised she'd been able to focus. But she did, because she needed  _something_  to show for senior year. She was leaving here with Rachel, and that made her happy beyond belief, but ever since she was younger - ever since she was Lucy - she'd wanted that one, special thing. She'd wanted to soar like a bird, to be confident that someone lay below to catch her.

It was hard to determine whether she meant cheerleading or love. Quinn didn't even know herself. All she knew was that the trophy felt fantastic in her hands, but not nearly as good as holding Rachel's heart there did.

–––

Sometimes when Quinn is feeling down, she wonders what it would be like to die. She's not serious - she doesn't think she is - but she just wants to know someone will care. Before her mother and father might have been concerned, more for their familial reputation than Quinn. At school they would engrave a plaque and the Cheerio's would do some kind of tribute to her life and then the next graduating class would take the focus and no one would even know who she was.

Rachel would care - that's what Quinn likes to think. It's in her darkest of days that Rachel links their arms together as they walk beside the road, positioning herself between Quinn and the passing traffic. Prevention is better than cure.

–––

Her mother returned from her overseas adventures, spreading the word of the Lord, to come and watch her daughter graduate. That plan was cut short when she found that Quinn had not only spent the last few months living under homosexual parents, but indulging in that very sin herself.

Quinn hadn't even bothered justifying it to her. There were no words that could change her mind. Quinn was happy, and there was nothing her mother could say to take that from her. In a way, Quinn was happy that her parent's marriage had crumbled. They had been broken by it, but Quinn had built something from that rubble - something with Rachel.

They stood out front of Rachel's house. Her mother's car was idling, and she waited expectantly by the driver's side for Quinn to hop in. "I don't like my daughter living in sin, Quinnie." Her mother said under her breath, as if the teenage pregnancy hadn't been just as bad. At least Rachel wouldn't put her in the same situation.

"You would rather I go back to dating a man who beat me up?" Quinn asked, blood running cold at the mention of Matthew, but she kept going - she had a point to prove. "Or with one who'll get me pregnant out of wedlock?"

Her mother was evidently frustrated. Her lips were drawn tight and her hand shook were it held the open door. "It's a sin, Quinnie." Her mother said, adamant. "I always wanted what was best for you."

"Rachel  _is_  the best for me." Quinn fired back as her mother re-entered her car, slamming the door shut. "And I  _love_  her!" Quinn cried as her mother pulled away from the curb.

–––

Graduating is anti-climatic.

It is the culmination of so many years for Quinn, years she can't quite define. Years she'd much rather forget, for the most part. There are snippets here and there that she'll miss forever: spending days out on the bleachers with Brittany and Santana, walking through the dry Lima heat with Rachel hand-in-hand, cartwheeling along the green grass at the park whilst Rachel cheers her on, Puck this ever-present shadow, keeping her safe.

Quinn will miss it, but she prefers the freedom of tossing her graduation cap high in the air and not caring where it lands.

–––

Yale still has a summer breeze when Quinn gets there, the remnants of the season gone making her feel at home. Home is hard to find now that Rachel is no longer in bed with her, but too far away to visit except for weekends.

"Where do you want these?" Puck asks, lugging a box of homely things Quinn has bought along with her.

At least she has someone there. Someone to protect her, someone to indulge her when she feels bored or lonely or sad. Someone who cares.

Quinn gestures towards one corner of her room - her new home for the next four years - and begins to unpack. Even with all the photos, the string of paper lanterns Rachel had given her to hang up above her bed, the notes tacked up on the wall... it didn't feel right.

It was missing one thing, and that thing was Rachel.

–––

Quinn was homesick.

Puck bought her the perfume Rachel wore and a webcam.

It helped.

The flowers tagged from  _the one who loves you most_  and the over-sized teddy bear that appeared on her doorstep only two weeks into semester helped a lot more.

It was the thought that counted.

–––

" _I can barely afford all my textbooks. I don't think I'll be able to visit for a few weeks - at least until I get a job here._ " Rachel's voice came through slightly fuzzy, feeding into the headphones on Quinn's head. The image on the screen did not match up with Rachel's words - her poor financial situation aside, Rachel was beaming at Quinn through the screen. It was the closest to each other they could get now.

Quinn laughed, looking down at the bear that occupied prime position on her bed. "Maybe if you stopped sending me roses and teddies, you'd be able to afford textbooks." Quinn answered, jokingly, but a tiny thread of guilt curled in her stomach. Had Rachel really put herself out so much for Quinn's happiness?

Who was she kidding? Rachel had been doing that since high school.

" _What are you talking about?_ " Rachel asked, her smile turning hesitant. " _Flowers?_ "

Quinn rolled her eyes - Rachel was an awful liar. "The roses Tuesday, the bear yesterday." Quinn listed them off, the sudden trend of gifts being delivered to her door leaving her anxious for the next time the door would knock.

Conveniently, it came just as Rachel tried to reply. Quinn nearly bounced out of her seat, excited to see just what Rachel had arranged for her this time. "I'll be right back." Quinn promised, blowing a kiss towards the webcam. She didn't wait by to see Rachel's reaction, and the earphones clattered to her desk as she pulled them off her head.

She didn't bother to check who was knocking, opening the door to the man outside in uniform. In an instant he had forced her back into her room, an arm locked around her neck. Quinn tried to scream but it was cut off, a gurgle trapped in her throat. The world stopped spinning. Her heart stopped beating. "You're going to go tell her that you forgot you were going out to grab coffee with a friend." His voice whispered in her ear, low and with so much promise. All those words he'd said to her before assaulted her: how beautiful she was, how lucky she was to have him, what a dumb  _bitch_  she was.

Quinn whimpered as he released her. "I warned you. And if you don't do exactly as I say, I'll get her, too."

Shaking like a leaf, she turned to look at the computer. At an angle Quinn could make out Rachel flicking through a notebook, pen between her teeth. Quinn was grateful she couldn't be seen. She took some time to breathe in and out, steady her body so that she felt she could face Rachel.

She should have seen this coming. He'd said that he'd get her, and she'd thought herself safe... she'd foolishly believed in the words of those authority figures, of Mr Schue and Miss Pillsbury and the police. But they had done  _nothing_. All they had given her was this illusion of freedom. Quinn had let herself indulge,  _finally_  get her happiness, and this was how she paid for it.

Rachel had done so much for her, and this here was the one thing Quinn could give back to her: safety, as best as she could.

She made her hands steady themselves and sat down at the desk, pulling the headphones back on and trying to smile as realistically as she could when inside she was breaking. "Tina just came by. I forgot that we were meant to grab coffee today - she's been sitting downstairs waiting for me for twenty minutes." Quinn said, the speed of her voice able to be put down to a fear of making her friend wait any longer. "I've gotta go. Sorry." She said, and there was so much  _more_  to her apology than just leaving their video chat so soon.

Rachel looked mildly concerned, but nodded anyway. " _Alright. Tell Tina I'm sorry for keeping you._ "

And damn it, why couldn't Rachel question her? Press further? Why not, just this once? Rachel's trust here would be Quinn's downfall, but best Rachel not be involved at all. "I will. I love you." Quinn said, voice not cracking due to sheer will alone.

Quinn logged out and shut down the computer. She felt his hand trailing the side of her body. "Good girl." He purred in her ear, and suddenly Quinn was back there, back in that dark place she'd hoped to leave behind in Lima.

Only now there was no where to run.

There was just Matthew and a locked door.

Quinn took a steadying breath.  _For Rachel_ , she thought, and then let herself go lax in his grip.

It would be easier if she didn't fight.

 


	3. part three

**_let me break it down 'til i force the issue_ **

**_you never come around and you know we miss you_ **

**_well nobody took your pride away_ **

**_i said, "that's something people say."_ **

**_back down the bully to the back of the bus_ **

**_'cause it's time for them to be scared of us_ **

' ** _til you're yelling, "how we living?" cause you got the ball_**

**_then you rock on baby, rock on, you rock on, on and on_ **

"I thought you were smarter than this, Quinn." Matthew's voice was older, roughened up by experiences Quinn didn't want to know about.

His hands on her body were like ice, making her shiver away, trying to escape him. There was no where, though. There was Quinn's small flat on-campus - a studio, and the only other room in that space was her bathroom.

A hand under her armpit pulled her roughly to her feet, her computer chair falling backwards with the violence of the movement. Quinn whimpered, mind racing as she tried to formulate a plan -  _think_. Figure something out.

–––

"Think, Rachel." Quinn said, holding the card up to her chest, a small smile on her face.

Rachel huffed, staring down at the drawing on the page. Across from them Brittany and Santana were doing the same thing. "Figure it out." Quinn prompted, eyes straying to Brittany's drawing. Her drawing was surprisingly good, though it was ringed with a border of love hearts that got quite distracting.

Rachel bit her lip, humming a tune to herself - something Quinn recognised from a musical they'd seen together a couple of times together. As she recalled, Rachel  _had_  owned the VCR until she watched it to the point that it broke. She had the DVD, of course - remastered in high definition, Rachel couldn't resist something like that.

–––

Matthew's breath was hot on the back of her neck, but not as warm as the tears sliding down her cheeks. "You're so pretty when you cry." He sung in her ear, biting her neck and squeezing her hip in one hand. "Don't worry about talking. I'll find a better use for that mouth of yours." He snarls, and the hand on her hip grips tight. She can feel his nails through the thin fabric of her shirt, leaving crescent-shaped marks on her pale flesh.

It's a split second decision because Quinn is done being helpless, done simply  _letting_  this happen.

Rachel has fixed her in the same way someone glues a vase back together - it will never be perfect as it was, but somehow those flaws add to its strength. And she's not going to let him shatter her again.

Quinn elbows Matthew in his stomach and runs.

–––

The ground rises up to meet her, an endless plane of green, and all Quinn can do is squeal and raise her arms to protect her face. Within seconds of her landing - a bit rough, though the ground is spongy enough to prevent any damage - there's a heavy weight settled on her back.

Quinn rolls over under Rachel, who spreads her calves either sides of Quinn's body, grinning down at her. "Tag." Rachel says, tapping Quinn on the nose with her finger. "You're it." And she leans over to kiss Quinn - first on the nose, where she had tagged her, and then on each corner of her mouth before sitting up again.

"Now you're it." Quinn replies, gripping Rachel's hips and throwing her body weight into knocking the girl off of her. Rachel cries out, flailing her arms in an attempt to regain her balance, but Quinn is already pushing her down against the ground.

Rachel is a giggling mess as Quinn presses her mouth down on hers, snatching the laughter away along with her breath.

–––

The door is bolted shut and Matthew stands between Quinn and that freedom, but her bathroom is behind her. She darts into the tiny, tiled space. Rachel's favourite shampoo and conditioner sit on a shelf in the shower (Quinn can't live without the smell), perfectly ordinary as Quinn slams the door shut and struggles to turn the lock.

It clicks into place just as Matthew slams his body against the door. "You fucking  _slut_." He curses through the door. College dorms are known for having thin walls, and Matthew's voice is just low enough that no one else will hear it.

Outside Matthew curses her with the most colourful language Quinn has ever heard as she struggles to find a way out. Her breathing is frantic, and she gags and coughs over rushed inhales. The window in the bathroom looks out over the campus, and Quinn _could_  fit through it, she could, it's just a shame it's five stories up.

But it's all she's got. Her phone is on the desk outside - as she thinks this, she hears it chime. God  _damn_  it - why couldn't she be like any other teenager, phone a permanent attachment to her person?

Quinn sobs as she claws at the screen over her bathroom window, the door cracking as a sudden force impacts with it. The sound draws a startled cry from her, and her whole body shudders in fear.

Again and again her fingers dig at the metal screen, trying desperately to break through and get someone -  _anyone's_  - attention and again the door buckles inwards.

–––

"We can't  _break_  it." Rachel says in a desperate, quiet whisper, prodding her key again and again into the lock - but it won't twist, won't open.

Quinn laughs quietly. "What made you think they'd  _not_  change the locks?" Her back is against the wall of McKinley's auditorium as Rachel tries to sneak them in. During her time in Glee, Rachel had talked Mr Schue into giving her keys to the building so she could practice whenever she wanted to. The key only let her into the auditorium and the choir room, and apparently the sports shed, but Rachel had never much cared for that. It was harmless to let her keep it, really, but they generally changed the locks every year.

Just in case two members of the graduating class decided they wanted one more chance on that stage.

Eventually, Rachel gave in. "You're destined for bigger and better stages anyway." Quinn assured her, lips close to her ear.

–––

Quinn screams as loud as she can because it's no use - her fingers are starting to bleed and the lock on the door suddenly breaks.

It doesn't take Matthew long to grab her again - one hand fisted in her hair, the other shoving something into her mouth. Quinn tries to scream but the fabric is dry in her throat and she can't breathe around it. It's her body acting on instinct, telling her to strike out, to kick and scream and flail but she can't. Matthew has he pressed up against the window, the metal grating digging into her cheek, and she watches the people below.

There's a couple cuddling on a picnic blanket in the shade of a tree. A group of friends chatting with coffee. A half-dozen cheerleaders working on a pyramid. People walking to and from class.

And then there's Quinn, five stories up, choking on a gag as her hair is pulled back sharply.

"Don't fucking try it." Matthew says, his other hand sliding beneath the waistband of her yoga pants.

Quinn whimpers, still breathing heavily through her nose, trying to stop herself from gagging against what she has now identified as a shirt in her mouth. Matthew's shirt, the arms tied around the back of her head and keeping it in place.

His hands burn now, burn against her bare skin wherever they go, lifting up her shirt and stroking her stomach in a tender fashion. Quinn shakes, hands still weakly pressed against the screen on the window, tears blurring the image of people walking around below her.

People who could save her.

Matthew breathes in deep at the base of her neck, inhaling her scent with a satisfied hum as his hands roam higher, higher. They reach the underwire of her bra and slide underneath when a knock comes at the door.

Quinn's legs buckled but Matthew's body holds her up. "Not a fucking word." He says slowly in her ear.

"Q? Open up, baby mumma."

Puck.

They're parting, now. Quinn stands by Puck's car, parked in the residential lot at NYADA. Rachel's moved all her things into her room - with Puck's assistance for the heavy boxes (and being Rachel, most boxes are heavy). Quinn is there for moral and interior design support reasons - aside from the obvious romantic attachment.

They've embraced plenty of times, but Rachel pulls her in again. They kiss - it's chaste. Even though it's Puck they stand before, Rachel has a thing about public affection. She's not the sort to shove her tongue down Quinn's throat - not normally, at least. There have been times, but this is not one of them.

"Shine on, little star." Puck says, ruffling Rachel's hair when they part. The brunette turns and clings to him - Puck had been so good to them in their last year of school. He'd helped more than Quinn is willing to admit. Her stomach still churns with the thought of what he did to Matthew, but it was all for the best.

She's here and she's now, and everything that happened to bring her to that point is good - in one way or another.

"I will." Rachel steps back, beaming though her eyes are bright with tears. "Take care of her for me."

"Swear on my life." Puck says with such confidence that Quinn couldn't deny the absolute truth of his statement.

–––

Quinn laughed around the gag in her mouth, forehead tipping forward until it hit the grating over the window. Puck, her guardian angel with a mohawk. He'd always looked out for her in a weird way, but ever since Matthew he'd been like the protective older brother she'd never had. Anyone so much as  _look_  at her the wrong way in the hall and they'd find themselves facing Puck.

Right now, he was knocking on her door. "Come on. Open the door." He repeated.

Matthew leaned in close to her ear, and Quinn clamped down on a pitiful scream that had been formed. It wasn't worth it. Don't bring Puck into it too.

No matter what he said, Quinn wouldn't get Puck hurt.

And she says it to herself, over and over, so much so that she's almost convinced.

But it still hurts when she hears the knocking cease - hears him give up and leave.

"Where were we?" Matthew purrs, low in her ear, pulling hard on her nipple and drawing a terrified wail from Quinn.

Her cheek is still pressed hard against the grating, and she focuses on the people on the grass instead of Matthew's hands. She wonders what they're doing - the couple, are they discussing their future? Wedding, maybe? Rachel had mentioned she'd like an autumn wedding, loves the colours of it, and of  _course_  she's going to sing there, too.

Or are they breaking up? Or is he hurting her somehow, like Matthew did? Is  _she_  hurting  _him_  the way Matthew hurt her? Anything is possible.

You shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Never believe what it shows on the outside.

Puck doesn't believe what's shown on the outside.

At that moment, a memory strikes her: Quinn giving Puck her spare key.

–––

Finding work was hard, but Quinn got a place - a children's boutique with surprisingly good wages. Her first investment was a thin gold chain, with three charms: a star, a key, and a ring.

A star for Rachel, her star, something to remind her forever how perfect she is - how high she's going to go, how far. The key is to Quinn's heart, something she entrusts only to Rachel. And the ring - an unspoken promise for the future.

"One day." Quinn says to herself as she mails the small, felt box off to her girlfriend - so close and yet so, so far.

–––

"Put her down." Puck growls, and Quinn shakes harder - with relief, now.

"Fuck off." Matthew growls, and his arm is back around Quinn's throat. Tight. She can barely breathe around his shirt - stale, smells like him, right up against her nose and makes her want to  _gag_.

Quinn blinks, and it's like so much time has passed. Matthew can't have been with her more than twenty minutes, but there's all these moments in her life Quinn is reliving. The best are the ones with Rachel. They're the ones she'll miss the most.

… and then her ears are ringing and her eyes are open. Everything is slanted - it takes her a moment to figure it out. The bathroom floor.

She tries to breathe in but the shirt is still in her mouth, and her shaking hands fumble up to undo it, to rip it off and throw it away.

There's yelling - there's so much yelling. Something smashes - sounds like glass.  _God_.

Quinn staggers upright, and her vision sways a little. Glancing downwards, Quinn spots her own blood on the floor - it's not much, but it's clear where she struck her head on the tiny step around the shower. "Puck?" She asks, trying not to panic  _too_  much because it's suddenly quiet. The only sound is her breathing - too fast, too frantic, she needs to slow down but she  _can't_.

There's not as much destruction in her room as Quinn had been expecting, but that only makes her worry more. "Puck!" She cries, breathing much too fast now, almost gasping.

He's gone. Matthew is gone.

Outside there's a crowd.

Someone pokes their head in her door, and then there's a bit more yelling. They're all gathered around the safety rail bordering the edge of the hallway. Quinn's stomach twists and she fights the urge to throw up - she keeps going on shaking legs - legs she suddenly feels so unfamiliar on. They're like stilts - so stiff and unnatural and not her own, not at all.

The gathered people part. Puck is hanging over the railing. Then he spits, blood and saliva.

Quinn sinks to the floor, back against her door frame.

She's five floors up.

–––

"You can't be afraid of heights, Rachel." Quinn says, jokingly, even as Rachel clings tight to her hand.

"I'm not scared." She says, pouting. "I just... don't like it." Her foot slips and she nearly screams - Quinn hears it begin, and she clamps her hand over Rachel's mouth. Rachel's hand is cutting off all circulation to Quinn's own, but she can't bring herself to really care about that.

"Open your eyes." Quinn coaxes once they reach the flat of the gymnasium roof.

Laid out before them the graduation celebrations are continuing. The oval is lit up with glow sticks and novelty hats and people are screaming and waving huge banners and laughing and crying and hugging and  _kissing._ It's beautiful. Lima continues in the background, notably less bright - Lima's the sort of town where everything shuts down at eight.

Not tonight, though.

It's the end, tonight, and Quinn wants to cry, but it's also a beginning.

She takes solace in that.

Rachel opens her eyes.

–––

"Quinn." Puck demands, gently slapping her cheek. "Please talk to me. You know Rach'll kill me if I break you."

Quinn's sitting down and she can't arrange her thoughts - can't arrange herself. "Did you?" She manages to ask, crying gently. It's not the full question, but the look in Puck's eyes tells her that he  _knows_  what she's asking.

"He fell." Puck says, voice hard-edged. "If I had my way you  _know_  I'd have fucking killed him with my bare hands for even thinking of fucking touching you in the first place." He snarls as he pulls Quinn into a tight hug, letting the affectionate gesture drain the violence from him.

She sags against his body. The crowds are quickly being dispersed - Quinn can hear sirens, can feel Puck's grip tighten when they get closer and closer, but he doesn't leave her.

Not for anything.

Not even for the police. Quinn knows how Puck hates them -  _fucking pigs_  he'd said to her once, under his breath of course - but he holds her hand. They ask her intrusive questions. They're ones Quinn got out of last time, but now there's no avoiding it. She's a big girl, now, and she has to do this for herself. Not hide behind Puck or Miss Pillsbury or Mr Schue or even Rachel.

She relives what she can, as if she were simply retelling a story to a friend: distanced, impersonal. It couldn't have happened to her. Friend of a friend, naturally.

In her hand her phone is off because she can't listen to it ringing over and over, calls sent to voicemail because Quinn has a duty here.

Rachel knows. Puck told her. Or Rachel told Puck to come find her, and Puck's just relayed that information back. Quinn's not sure. She has a terrible headache and her body feels cold.

It's nearly midnight when they're finally left alone.

Puck still hasn't let her go. Quinn has curled up in his lap, head against his shoulder, his arms keeping her safe. Tina had come through earlier to clean things up a little. The blood in the bathroom is gone - it wasn't needed for evidence. Everyone in the hall testified that Puck hadn't even pushed Matthew: he'd simply run the wrong way in his hurry to escape. Quinn didn't know if it was a lie or not, but it was being considered suicide by the police.

That's the best she can hope for, really.

"Got a surprise for you." Puck says gently, kissing the patch of skin just in front of her ear. There's nothing romantic about it - it's the comfort Quinn needs because Rachel isn't there. It's not good enough - never was, even when they did date - but it's the best she has right now.

"Yeah?" Quinn asks, making no effort to hide the exhaustion in her voice.

"Yeah." Puck says, pushing her up to her feet. Quinn keeps one hand bunched in his shirt - paranoia, maybe. She never did see the body.

Quinn stands there a moment, prepared to turn and ask what it is, when the door opens. Finn holds it, and Rachel slips under his arm.

"I'll be around." Puck promises, kissing the back of Quinn's head again. As he leaves, he ruffles Rachel's hair. She doesn't even pause to allow the friendly gesture, headed directly for Quinn's arms.

Puck and Finn let themselves out. The lock clicks into place. Puck's spare key.

Around Rachel's neck, Quinn spies another key.

"I love you." Quinn says, mouth quirking - her body attempting a smile, too soon.

Rachel doesn't have the words. She just clings to Quinn's body.

Quinn isn't sure which of them needs it more, but there is one thing she's sure of: she'll never tire of hugging Rachel.

–––

It's funny, the journeys we take.

They get us from a to b, from here to there, and people are always so focused on that goal.

Quinn isn't sure what her goal is. She was never even sure what her journey was. Once - a long time ago - she had thought that beauty was all that mattered. She had wanted to be beautiful, to fit in, to be loved by all.

And then she'd wanted to be loved more than anything by one person. Just one person. Quinn had simply wanted to find a human being who loved her unconditionally, one who would never leave her.

She hadn't gotten that.

What Quinn had gotten was a child and a string of exes and enemies.

She changed herself completely (again), reinvented what she was (again), and she'd thought she'd found love (again). What she got was scars and bruises - things that would remind her every morning of who she was (terrible, hideous, bitch, slut).

But, in the end, Quinn had found Rachel.

Rachel was her destination and her journey, all in one.

Love may have been the goal for a while, but not Rachel. Not love in that form. That was something Quinn had never expected. Someone to find her absolutely enchanting as they pulled glass from her back, who told her every day, through whatever means possible, that she was the most beautiful person they'd ever laid eyes on.

Rachel had put her back together after Matthew. Piece by piece, she had reassembled the being that was Quinn Fabray. But there had always been something missing.

Something she hadn't really known about until now.

Quinn did not attend Matthew's funeral. She saw the death notice in the papers, and was satisfied by that. It was weight off her back, one she'd never known was there.

As all the other bruises and cuts had healed, so did the cut on her head - the bruises around her neck.

All that remained of Matthew now was the burn on her shoulder.

That was the last part of her body that was tainted. Rachel had done all she could to fix Quinn, but there were some things only Quinn could do for herself.

–––

Quinn breathed in and out slowly, her eyes trained on her lap.

This was it.

"Almost there."

She bit her lip as the pain started again, buzzing loud in her ear.

And then it was over.

"Take a look."

Quinn stood up, shakily, approaching the wall-mounted mirror. She turned, looking over her shoulder at where the cigarette burn used to be. Now there was a small gold star, tattooed over that mark.

And suddenly - finally - Quinn Fabray could be.

 


End file.
